


Watching You Get Turned On (I’m Yours)

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunnilingus, D/s undertones, Dirty Talk, Dominant Harry Potter, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake Dating, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Post-War, Praise Kink, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sexually Liberated Hermione Granger, Smut, Threesome, Voyeur Draco Malfoy, Voyeurism, Yule Ball, m/m/f
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Harry has enjoyed both Hermione and Draco separately, but after one night at the Ministry’s Yule ball, he selflessly helps Hermione achieve two of her greatest fantasies: semi-public sex and being watched by none other than Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 455
Collections: Dirty Festivus 2020





	Watching You Get Turned On (I’m Yours)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FaeOrabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel/gifts).



> Written for the wonderful FaeOrabel for the Dirty Festivus Exchange! Ahhhh, happy holidays, sweets! May it be a lovely festivus for you and yours! Thank you for your prompts and providing me the opportunity to return to writing these three, I had so much fun! And much love to TriDogMom for jumping in to create a smutty exchange for 2020 - you’re the real MVP! A little debauchery for the holiday season, yes? Yes! Let's go! :)

The annual Ministry Yule Ball was the single most anticipated event of the year. Anyone who was anyone attended and if she wanted to become the next Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger had to make an impression.

That’s how she found herself descending a wide staircase decorated in shiny silver and blue. At the end of the staircase, two twelve-foot tall evergreen trees rested with fairy lights and charmed ribbons snaking through their branches like a basilisk.

She wasn’t comfortable in such a form-fitting dress. The shoes on her feet, deemed by Ginny as ‘fuck-me heels’, dug into the soft flesh of her foot as she stepped carefully down and down into the main fray of the ball. Harry clung to her arm. Fidgeting just as uneasily with the inevitable attention they’d receive. He held her firmly, regardless.

“There’s still time to Apparate out of here,” he whispered conspiratorially to her from the corner of his mouth.

Hermione breathed a single laugh and flicked her long curls over her shoulder. “Can’t, I’m afraid. Kingsley specifically said the public has to see me as a charismatic and charming cohort. It won’t do to hide away from the limelight.” Sighing, she curled her hand into the silk at her thigh and forced a smile as the first camera floated in front of them. “Are you sure you’re okay with this plan, Harry?”

“Pretending to date my best friend for a night?” She heard the grin in his voice. “It’s not like we haven’t done far more before.”

Heart fluttering at the reminder of their no-strings-attached relationship, heat pooled at her cheeks. “Right, but  _ they _ don’t know that.”

“And by ‘they’, you mean Malfoy?”

Oh, that cheeky sod. She squeezed his arm where her hand was wound through his elbow. “Harry,” she warned, cutting her gaze to his.

His bright green eyes sparkled playfully at her. The stubble on his jaw stretched over the weight of his ridiculously large smile. “I’m just saying, you invited me to be your date so he wouldn’t. We mustn’t tell lies, Hermione.”

“Oh, don’t start that shit again,” she said, clenching her molars as a camera flashed. “Draco and I are just friends, and I don’t want to complicate it with—”

“Raunchy sex?”

She stared at him, mouth hanging open as he chuckled and scratched at his chin. “You’ve heard the same rumors I have. All that Pureblood chastity missed him by a kilometer—I should know. And the endowment alone...”

Tingles rushed to her belly. Tempering it by trying to think of anything  _ not _ as sexy as the thought of being railed by Draco Malfoy. “Can we not discuss the size of Draco’s—”

“Very large—”

“ _ Penis _ .”

“That’s not the word you use when—”

“Harry James Potter.” Hermione stepped quickly to the flat marble floor and spun to face him. Grabbing his hands, eyelashes fluttering softly against her cheekbones, she implored him with a desperate tone. “Please just get me through this night unscathed by the punters. And then—”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “You’ll make it worth my while?”

A small smirk lifted the corner of her lips. “Maybe, but first: let’s grab a drink.”

* * *

The ball was in full swing by the time Hermione had guzzled her third Dirty Elf, a lime green concoction that Lee Jordan swore wasn’t  _ entirely _ alcohol. It tasted like a lie. Still, her mind was delightfully fuzzy and the nerves of facing the whole Ministry, and mingling with as many wizards as possible, were muted. Harry didn’t leave her side as promised, and kept her well supplied with drinks as he played the perfect date.

Kingsley gave her a swift wink as she walked away from Head Auror Robards whose attention she needed in her bid for Minister. She took it as a good sign—no doubt it helped that she had his favorite Auror on her arm that night. Harry led her to the next and last group of the night before they could put her lobbying to rest; it was the group of wizards she was dreading. Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy stood at a high top, silver-lined table littered with empty glasses. All dressed in their most expensive, impeccably pristine suits, Hermione barely registered the others as her eyes climbed every inch of Draco’s long, fit body.

He wore the hell out of a suit.

Licking her suddenly dry lips, Hermione cleared her throat as she approached with Harry’s hand planted against the small of her back. Her heart skipped a beat as Draco’s eyes zeroed in on the intimate touch.

“Granger, Scarhead.” Draco ducked his chin in greeting, but his eyes remained on Harry’s hand as he sipped from his glass. “Charming as ever.”

It was Theo’s wolf whistle that interrupted whatever Harry had been about to say, thankfully. “Crackin’ dress, Granger. Always thought you’d look like a femme fatale in crimson.”

“She wore crimson the entire time we were at school, you knobhead,” Draco said, grey eyes rolling to the ceiling before landing on hers.

“Not like that, she didn’t. See that slit up the side?” Theo tilted his head, following the line of the slit up to her mid thigh. “No wool tights in sight under that silk.”

“We all know wool went out of fashion ages ago,” Blaise interrupted, leaning over the table with a brilliant smile. “Hermione, lovely as ever, darling. Ignore my husband; he’s a bit of a tramp.”

“I remember,” she laughed in response, feeling the tension ease out from her tight muscles as the couple chuckled to one another. “It’s good to see you, Blaise. How’s Magical Catastrophe now that Percy’s taken over?”

“The man is a buzzkill, but he’s the most effective buzzkill I’ve ever known.” He wrapped his arm around Theo’s waist and tugged him over to make room for Hermione and Harry to stand at the table.

Harry, insufferable prat that he was, turned at the last moment to sidle up next to Theo, leaving Hermione to stand at intoxicatingly close proximity to Draco. He smelled of sharp liquor and a dense forest and it did troublesome things to her fuzzy brain. While Harry’s hand curled around her hip, Draco leaned his tall frame over and spoke gravelly whispers into her ear.

“Don’t mention it to Theo, but he’s right you know.” The hot breath against the shell of her ear sent zings cascading down her spine. “I wouldn’t say crackin’, though. Doesn’t do it justice. You look delectable.”

Blaise’s mouth was moving, but Hermione heard none of what he said. Her ears were filled with cotton and her throat was achingly dry. “Thank...you. You look...nice...as well.”

“Why thank you, Granger,” Draco whispered with a deep chuckle that sent tendrils of her hair fluttering against her neck. “I admit, perhaps I should have gone with the emerald robes, given my feelings about seeing Potter’s hand on your person.”

As if Harry could hear Draco, his hand tightened.

“Shame he got to you before I did.”

Before Hermione could say anything at all—not that she could form a response that didn’t make her sound absolutely undone by him—Draco stepped away from the table and left a cold space where his body had been.

“You alright, love?” Harry asked, brows furrowed as his gaze snagged on her reddened cheeks.

“Mmhm,” she said, pressing her lips together and ignoring the prickles at the nape of her neck. “I suppose we should get the dancing out of the way, don’t you think?”

* * *

She was wrapped up close, swaddled by Harry’s strong arms. Head rested against his chest. Comforted by the steady thump of his heart. After all these years, she’d never understand how calm he could remain with all the attention that seemed to find him constantly. And he sheltered her from it. Provided a safe harbor from the tumultuous press. Everyone else had told Hermione she’d need to get used to the attention. Not Harry. He gave her something precious: the ability to just be Hermione Granger, human being.

Harry’s fingertips danced the length of her torso. Encouraging her even closer, his hands tightened around the meat of her hips. Warm breath sent shivers down her spine as his mouth met her ear.

“You’re not wearing knickers tonight, are you?” It was barely a whisper, pained and gruff. His wet lips glanced against the shell of her ear. “Answer me.”

Heartbeat careening, Hermione lifted her head, tilting her chin up so she could look into his blazing eyes. Even if she were wearing knickers, the intensity of his gaze would make her want to vanish them with a bit of wandless magic. She shook her head, not breaking eye contact. The low growl it earned her set wet heat flooding to her knicker-less core.

The tips of his fingers dug into the top of her arse, as if the soft flesh provided an anchor for his self control. Heat flared on the apples of her cheeks, and launched between her thighs as a grey stare collided with hers over Harry’s shoulder. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as long, pale fingers loosened the windsor knot at his throat. The sultry path his tongue made along his bottom lip caused her stomach to clench.

Harry’s slow steps spun them to the measured melody. “Keep tugging on my hair like that and I’m dragging you off to the loo.”

Loosening her fingers from the thick roots of his raven-colored hair, Hermione dragged her gaze away from Draco’s ardent attention. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” she finally asked Harry in a breathless, rough whisper. “You’re never so… forward.”

She was rewarded with a lopsided smile. “You have no idea how ravishing you look tonight, do you?” His fingers danced further south on her backside until they were planted under the curve of its cheeks. “Malfoy can’t take his eyes off you. Hasn’t stopped staring at your delectable little arse since we began dancing.”

Swallowing, she swore there was glass lodged in her throat. Fiery, sharp glass squeezed by her constricting throat as they spun and she once again came face-to-face with Draco’s fervent gaze.

“What do you think he’d do if I squeezed—” Harry’s fingers clenched around handfuls of her bottom, encouraging Hermione’s body so close a pinhead couldn’t fit between them. His voice was low and gravelly in her ear. “I think he liked it. He’s unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. What else would drive him mad, I wonder?”

No matter their no-strings-attached sexual relationship, and the depraved things she knew to be true of Harry Potter in the bedroom, Hermione never could have imagined he’d have his hands upon her arse and his thick, covered erection straining against her soft belly in front of the entire Ministry ball. Yes, they’d gotten down and dirty in the office after hours, had magicked an elevator jam on the weekend, and—once—he’d enticed her to ride him in his garden under the blood red moon. But this, in front of everyone they knew, when no one was privy to the sexual relationship they’d had for years, was brand new.

“Harry,” she whispered, digging teeth into her painted lower lip. “We can’t…”

“Did you, or did you not, tell me that you fantasize about this?” Harry’s lip trailed over the edge of her ear. “Two men, semi-public sex?”

“Not at the Ministry ball,” she said furiously, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. “And not with Draco Malfoy.”

Staring at her as if trying to decode a secret message, Harry released his delicious hold on her backside and circled his palms on her waist. “ Modified Notice-Me-Not,” he said and a small amount of tension melted from her shoulders. “And, if you think I’m going to believe you haven’t been thinking about what it would feel like to have Malfoy’s face between your legs, you’re mistaken. I guarantee he knows what to do with that filthy mouth of his. Look at him and tell me you don’t want him, Hermione.”

So she did. She watched the way his hand rested against his thigh, fingers curled gently into the fabric of his trousers. Up his lithe frame and the way his shirt clung to the muscles it hid. To the bunched sleeves around his elbows, the open collar at his neck, and the clenched jaw she could make out even at such a distance.

A breath whooshed from her lungs as the corner of his lip twitched. Just enough of a curve to make his eyes sparkle under the weight of the barely-there smirk. Hermione’s heart rocketed into her throat as Draco started toward her. It was a prowl, ensnaring her in his predatory advance.

They turned just enough to remove Draco from her sight.

“Play nice,” Harry warned her gruffly. At her glare, he cracked a crooked smile. “Maybe I’ll let him know you’re a terrible tease and not wearing your underwear tonight?”

Hermione swatted Harry, face heated as a rush of blood pooled at her cheeks. “Don’t you dare, Harry Potter.”

“May I cut in?” Draco’s deep voice interrupted whatever cheeky comeback Harry had been about to spew. He stood to the side, his gaze unrelenting—as if he were undressing her right there in the middle of the dance floor. As Harry stepped aside, Draco jutted his chin. “Thanks, Potter. I promise to return her in one piece.”

Leaning into Draco, Harry whispered something Hermione couldn’t hear. Whatever it was—and she had a shrewd assumption—caused Draco’s eyes to widen fractionally for only a beat. His nostrils flared as he muttered his thanks to Harry once more. Her date tossed a cheeky wink as he turned and left her in the middle of a crowded dance floor with the object of her secret sexual fantasies. She watched him melt into the sea of fancy dresses and then brought her attention to Draco. Standing there all handsome with a loose tie and bunched sleeves. Intense eyes flicking over her face. Saying nothing at all.

Clearing her throat, Hermione gestured vaguely to the dance floor. “Well, shall we?”

He stepped into her space, but didn’t make a move to touch her. Standing a full head and a half taller, Draco struck an imposing figure. Hermione craned her neck, watching the bob of his throat, the clench of his jaw, until she finally caught his eyes again.

“If you’re just going to stand there, maybe we should—”

“Such a mouthy witch,” Draco murmured, reaching for her hands and wrapping them around the starchy collar of his shirt. “Please, continue to give me commands. I promise to follow them perfectly.”

She blushed, styling it out with a flippant roll of her eyes. Inside, though, her body was begging to drag him out of the ball. To command him to his knees. To part her thighs. To—

Gooseflesh broke out along her arms as his fingers trailed their length, gently gliding along the soft flesh from wrist to shoulder. And he didn’t stop there. The backs of his hands traced the bust of her dress, slid down the ladder of her ribs, and ended in a tight curl around her hips.

Yanking her forward, Draco left no space between their bodies. He dropped his head, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. She thought perhaps he was taking in her scent, but she couldn’t be sure. The next moment he pulled back to meet her eyes, and his pupils were blown wide.

Fire erupted in her belly. Feeling his erection between them—and the rumors must be true, she mused—Hermione allowed herself to be led in a slow, intimate dance. Draco remained respectful where his hands traveled on her body; lying along the expanse of her lower back, gripping onto the soft flesh of her hips, but never dipping where Harry had been earlier.

It was driving her mad.

She wanted him to grab her arse, to tease her, to whisper filthy things as they spun round the dance floor. But he remained perfectly polite, despite the thick, hard erection against her stomach. Was she just supposed to pretend it wasn’t there? That she wasn’t considering all the ways he could take her right there in front of everyone?

A sharp breath chased her lustful thoughts away. She had to get control of herself. Really, she blamed Harry—all that foreplay from their dance had played with her mind, made her randy.

“I love when you blush.” Draco’s thumb curled against her hip bone. “You’re so good at maintaining your composure, but the red flush that crawls up your neck to your face gives you away every time.”

The erratic thump of her heart was louder than the music, she was sure of it. His eyes dipped to the constricting plane of her throat. Then to her lips, where they lingered for a full second, before landing again on her eyes. She didn’t know what to say, so she curled her fingers into the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, and continued to practice her calming breaths.

“I wonder if you blush like that when Potter’s got his face between your legs,” he mused, voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever he was saying to you earlier must have excited you; your face has been a delicious shade since he put his hands on your arse.”

Still, Hermione remained silent. Held captive by his words, his touch, and the shadows of desire dancing behind his eyes. She couldn’t speak if she even knew what to say. Throat tight and raw. Lungfuls of shallow breath were making her dizzy. Or, maybe it was Draco’s peppery cologne, which seemed to ensconce the entirety of their personal space.

“Potter’s a lucky bloke,” he said, caressing the silk just above her backside. “I’ve been thinking about asking you out for ages. Ever since that afternoon you gave me a verbal lashing at the office. Fuck—that mouth.” His tongue danced along his lip, drawing Hermione’s gaze to them.

“Harry and I aren’t together,” she blurted out, her pitch high as panic lanced through her sensitive throat. It was a lie; they both knew it—Draco’s brow arched as she shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts. “What we have is complicated.”

“The sexual tension between you says otherwise.” His hips jerked and she felt the overwhelming size of his cock jump. “I could feel it from across the room. And I’m familiar with Potter’s lack of control over himself when he’s randy.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Cotton filled her ears. The room swayed under the haze of her growing desire for the man whose hair she tugged at the roots.

“I liked it,” he said. “Liked watching you get turned on. Seeing Potter touch you and the way your body reacted to him.”

Letting her fingers disentangle from his hair, Hermione dropped her palms to his chest and curled her fingers into his shirt. The hard planes of his chest twitched under her fingers. The patter of his heart slammed into her palms. A tendon in his neck spasmed. Jaw clenched. She very nearly dragged him by the tie off the floor, but a hand—a familiar, warm hand—clamped down on her shoulder.

She released a shuddering breath, as she was let go from Draco’s hold and turned, finding Harry’s blazing greens staring back at her.

“Harry.” 

“Time for me to reclaim my gorgeous date, I think,” he said. No apparent anger. Quite the opposite, as his eyes left hers to land on Draco’s,

Hermione thought the look Harry gave him was  _ proud _ or at least intrigued. Harry had never looked like  _ that _ about her before, and it left her to wonder if their relationship had changed and she hadn’t noticed. 

Even as Draco loped away, the energy in the air cackled with desire. The heat hadn’t left her. Just amplified as Harry’s arm wound around her and pulled her close.

“What’d Malfoy have to say for himself?” he asked, tone curious and light. “You look as if you’re about to spontaneously combust.”

Her words squeaked through, low and filled with awe over all Draco had confessed. “He liked to watch. Me— _ us _ .” Tingles spread through her body, like tiny nuclear reactions at every erogenous zone. It occurred to her that perhaps she liked being watched by him.

If Harry was surprised, he hid it behind a smirk and sparkling eyes. “And you liked what he said?”

“I… don’t know,” she admitted, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

“I think you do know.”

“Harry, I—”

“If the next words you say are a lie, I’m taking you home. If you tell me the truth, I’m going to drag you off to the loo and bury my face between your legs.”

All her breath whooshed out of her in one, sharp puff. He was giving her an out. Of course, he was also making a promise—to fulfill a fantasy she’d had for a long time. They hadn’t even been dancing, just stood still and staring at one another in the middle of a twirling crowd. How could she say yes? Bugger it, how could she say no?

“Yes,” she admitted so quietly, Harry had to lean in to hear her. “Yes, I liked what he said, and how it made me feel.” 

She was rewarded with a lopsided smile as Harry twirled a fallen curl of her hair around his finger. “Good girl,” he said gruffly. “Why don’t you grab yourself a drink from the bar and I’ll meet you there in a mo’?”

* * *

Hermione had chugged a tall glass of some silvery drink whose name she couldn’t remember. She was just about to take a second when Harry’s hand encircled her wrist.

“Come with me.”

He dragged her away from the bar and walked so fast she had to scurry to keep pace with him. With every step forward, her anticipation grew. They were really going to do it; Harry was going to fuck her with nearly everyone they knew under the same roof. She clenched her thighs together, steps awkward as she sought any sort of friction to alleviate the desperate tingle between her legs.

They turned the corner into a silent and dark corridor. Harry wasted no time pushing her roughly against the wall just beside the door to the lavatory. Hands bracketing her head, his lips crashed onto hers, and there was no softness under the demands of his mouth. She kept up the best she could, moaning deep in her chest as his tongue swept along hers. With her fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, Hermione held on for dear life as his searing kiss evoked a deluge of blistering desire. Straight to her core. A constant, ravenous thrum of sexual energy careening from her unusually mute brain to her equally frenetic sex.

“You want this so badly,” he growled, descending from her lips to her jaw and peppering it with open-mouthed kisses. When he reached the throbbing pulse on her throat, he drove a hand into the bust of her dress. “God, the noises you make—do you like that, Hermione?”

His thumb swiped over the peak of her nipple before palming her breast and scraping his teeth along the long column of her throat.

“Yes,” Hermione moaned, tilting her pelvis against his hip. “Harry… Merlin, yes. Please.”

“Please what?” he demanded. Hot breath against cool saliva. Shivers amplifying her already heady desire. “Tell me what you want from me.”

Choking out a reply, Hermione’s head snapped back against the wall. “Please—please take me into the loo and put your face between my legs.”

Harry stopped his assault on her neck and tangled their hands together. Hauling Hermione in tow, he slammed through the wooden door. Nearly knocked it off its hinges with the force of his open palm.

“Lift yourself onto the sink,” he commanded her, pointing a finger in the direction of the marbled countertop and porcelain skins. Doing as he asked, Hermione kicked off her heels and hoisted herself onto the cold granite and watched Harry adjust himself through heavy lidded eyes. “See what you do to me?”

He gripped his straining erection through the placard of his trousers. Oh, Hermione saw. Her throat tightened around a thick swallow. Pupils dilated, chest heaving, cheeks flaming. She’d never wanted someone so badly. Except, perhaps… 

“We have a visitor,” Harry said as if reading her mind. His eyes were darkened with lust as he stepped towards her and boxed her in between the steel bands of his arms. With his lips to her ear, he whispered from deep within his throat. “Draco wants to watch. Would you like that? To have him see you come undone. To have him know what a wanton witch you are underneath all the do-gooder layers?”

Hermione spread her legs to allow Harry to stand more comfortably between them. Rational thought had abandoned her entirely; no care for who might burst through the door, no concern that Draco Malfoy was here, somewhere, listening to the embarrassing heaviness of her breathing and desperate moans as Harry’s fingers climbed the length of her thigh.

“Hermione.” Pulling back, he gazed into her eyes. Still glazed with need, but shadowed under a notched brow. Hermione blinked at him, words stuck in her dry mouth. “Malfoy can’t hear us yet. He’s under the cover of a Muffliato. Give me the word and I’ll drag you out of here and back to your flat. This won’t go any further without your consent. I won’t force this on you.”

There were a thousand reasons to love Harry Potter, and this was no exception. To give her time to think, to consider the ramifications, and weigh the pros and cons. He knew her better than anyone else on the planet and that’s how she knew she wanted this—with him, and with Draco.

She wrapped her hand around his tie and yanked him down for a sloppy, emboldened kiss. Merlin, the noise that came from him— _ hnngh _ . It made her core clench and her legs tighten around his hips. As she slipped her fingers into his hair, Harry dragged himself back—breathing hard, as if it were the most difficult thing he’d ever done—and held her face between his large palms.

“I can feel how ready you are.” He nipped at her lower lip, earning him a whimper from between her parted lips. “But, he needs to hear it. He wants your consent, too. Tell him how much you want this, Hermione. Let him hear you say that you want him to watch you come apart underneath me.”

Uttering a quiet counterspell, the faint buzz of the Muffliato disappeared. The man hidden in the stall behind them could hear her every word, every staggered breath. 

Glancing over his shoulder to the closed stall door, Hermione gulped a deep breath. “I want Draco to watch—to hear me come, to see me come apart over your… your…”

“Say it,” Harry urged, voice strangled and gravelly as he ran his hand along the curves of her body, vanishing her dress with wandless, nonverbal magic. The air around them crackled. “Say the word.”

“To see me come apart over your  _ cock _ .”

A groan came from behind the metal stall door. It burst open, as if Draco had kicked it wide open with his dragonhide shoes.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Harry praised, teeth sinking into her collarbone while Hermione drank in the sight of Draco over Harry’s head. “Scoot back and put your feet on the ledge. Keep those legs parted for me.” She did as she was told, muscles tensing as she bared herself explicitly to him. And to Draco, who leaned against the frame of the stall. “I want your hands on those beautiful tits. Grab them like I would; show Draco how you like it.”

Doing as Harry instructed, Hermione tugged her bra underneath her breasts and pinched her nipples until they stood erect. All the while, her eyes clawed along Draco’s frame. The rumpled shirt, undone tie, slivers of pale, hard skin on display. Her hips jerked—he already looked so completely undone with his hand gently rubbing the outline of his large erection.

There was a dizzying need for her to come for him. She wanted to lose control, let him see that she wasn’t all books and cleverness. That buried inside of her was a passionate witch who yearned for him—for them, and this.

Tugging at her breast, Hermione moaned as Draco unzipped his trousers. The outline of his cock in his briefs stilled her hand. He was  _ massive _ , even thicker than Harry. When her eyes flicked back to his face, she found the knowing smirk on his face did nothing to stay her increasing carnal needs. For the first time, she wanted him to touch her, for him to allow her to wrap her fist around him and bring him to orgasm.

“I told you,” Harry said, continuing his trail of kisses from her collarbone to her cupped breasts, then down the center of her stomach. “And between you and I—” He nipped at her inner thigh before locking his gaze on hers. “He tastes incredible. Would you like to taste him, Hermione?”

“I...”

_ Yes. Yes, yes, yes _ , her mind chanted as Draco shoved his underwear down to his thighs.

“First, we’ll let him watch you come. Let him see how much you like it when you’ve got a tongue on your cunt.”

She was going to faint if he didn’t follow through soon. Her entire body buzzed with frantic, feral energy. “Harry,  _ please _ .”

Harry’s stubbled cheek tickled Hermione’s inner thigh. He placed open mouth kisses against the fleshiest part of her leg, moving just shy of her sodden sex. Hot breath caressed her bare skin, gooseflesh skittered from her ankles to her hips. And when his tongue delved between her folds, she moaned and wrapped her manicured fingers through his hair, knotting the roots in a firm grip.

“Delicious,” he said, lowering himself to kneel against the tile floor. Their eyes met and a heavy breath left her unwittingly. “Don’t take your eyes off Malfoy.”

Swallowing hard, Hermione obeyed. She keened as he buried his face between her legs and lapped at her like a man searching for water in the desert. The sink at her lower back dug into her skin. Anyone could walk in at any moment; it wasn’t as if they’d been safe and placed a locking charm on the door of the loo. And if anyone discovered how depraved they really were, if they knew what was really happening in the loo at the Yule Ball…

Her toes curled around the edge of the counter as she watched Draco fist his erection in a vice like grip. His face was flushed, the apples of his cheeks tinged a sexy shade of pink as he blew out a shallow breath.

“How does it feel, Granger?” he asked in an insufferably throaty whisper.

“So—good. I’m going to—” Teeth nipped at her clitoris and she hissed between her molars, gripping Harry’s hair tighter. “Oh god, just like that—”

A desperate groan slipped from Draco’s lips, causing Hermione’s thighs to clench around Harry’s head. Hips jerking of their own accord, Hermione’s orgasm built in her belly, a delicious electricity shooting to the center of the circle Harry was etching around her clit. She had no control over the noises that left her—half whimpers, muted begging, prayers to Merlin and Circe and all the ancient gods of debauchery. A feverish plea ripped itself from her mouth as Harry slid two thick fingers into her sex and curled them against its spongey wall.

“Harry—Harry, I’m coming, I’m—” Hermione’s vision whited out as her climax pulsed through her. “Ah, gods, Harry—”

Lapping at her folds, Harry’s tongue was relentless against her. Stroking her clit as she abandoned all sensibility and rocked her hips against him, desperately chasing her pleasure. When her body stiffened, he nipped at her clit earning a final, guttural moan before she slackened over the sink bonelessly.

The fluorescent lighting overhead winked, as if her magic had caused a momentary short-circuit. Struggling to catch her breath, Hermione loosened her hold on Harry’s hair, eyes fluttering shut as her chest heaved. When she finally opened her eyes again, he stood between her legs with his trousers at his knees and his hand around his cock. With his free hand, he gestured Draco forward.

“Stunning, isn’t she?” Harry ran his hand along Hermione’s bare thigh, dragging Draco’s gaze from her knee to her glistening sex. “So responsive. Vocal. Bossy, once she gets going. And she loves being teased.”

His fingers parted her silken folds, and Hermione proved him right as an intoxicated moan slipped between her lips.

“Can Malfoy touch you?” Harry asked, sliding a finger through the path his tongue had blazed only moments before. “He’s been so good; hasn’t allowed himself to come yet.”

To Hermione’s surprise, she watched Harry reach out to Draco’s fisted arousal. The surprise wasn’t so much that he wrapped his hand around the erection, but that Draco hadn’t even flinched at the contact. His nostrils flared and his hand dropped to his bare thigh as Harry stroked them both gently.

“Ask her,” Harry instructed Draco, lifting his chin in Hermione’s direction. “Ask her if you can touch her. I bet she’s gagging for it, the minx.”

Their eyes met, and Hermione clamped her teeth over her tongue to keep from begging him. She knew the game Harry wanted to play, the level of control he wanted to have. So she waited as Draco’s eyes roved over her bare body, from glistening cunt to heavy lidded eyes. He panted as Harry squeezed his cock, and moaned around his words.

“Can I touch you?” he asked softly, hips jerking forward into Harry’s fist and growled. “Fuck, Potter, I don’t want to come before I’ve touched her for fuck’s sake.”

His sharp tone, the way he struggled against Harry’s dominance, turned her the fuck on. “Yes, Draco,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Touch me, please.”

Draco didn’t need to be told twice. As Harry’s hand moved over him, he pressed his slender finger to Hermione’s bundle of nerves and circled it gently. “Touch your breasts, Granger. Make your nipples hard for me.”

Merlin, there were two of them; dominant, commanding. To have two men who knew what they wanted—who asked for it—it was her own personal sexual nirvana. She indulged his request, caressing her nipples with her blunt nails and shuddering as they peaked. Draco stroked her quim before slipping in one finger to the knuckle.

“So tight,” he murmured, voice laced with heady need. “Will you let me fuck you, Granger? Stretch you around me. Let me show you how a cock as big as mine can make you scream?”

The honest answer was yes. She absolutely wanted to feel Draco stretch her open with his impressive size. But, that was never part of the discussions she’d had with Harry. And while they weren’t officially exclusive, she also knew neither of them had slept with just anyone in the long sexual relationship they’d had with one another—save for Draco, who Harry enjoyed on the regular. She chewed the inside of her cheek, frozen between wanting to say yes and needing Harry’s consent.

Glancing at Harry, she found the answer to her unspoken question in his eyes. He wanted this just as much as she did. His brow furrowed as he stroked Draco and watched the tender way that Draco fucked her with his finger—slow and agonizing as Hermione rocked her hips against him seeking out friction. Harry’s hand dropped from Draco’s hardness.

“Harry,” she murmured, wetting her lip as he turned his attention to her face. “I won’t take this further without your consent.” An echo of his words earlier, when all this had been just a voyeuristic fantasy. They were so well beyond that now. “Use your words.”

His eyes flicked between the two of them. Hermione watched him struggle to reconcile the idea that his two worlds were colliding into one intoxicating moment. Finally, he loosed a nervous laugh. “Hell yes, I want him to fuck you. But not here.” Yanking up his trousers, Harry nodded at the unlocked door. “I’ve risked enough tonight. Let’s go back to mine.”

The loss of Draco’s touch was a small price to pay for the swooping sensation in her belly as Harry’s hand encircled her wrist and the lavatory disappeared from sight. With a resounding crack, they appeared in the middle of Potter Cottage. Quiet, but warm from the firelight flickering beneath Harry’s television. None of them moved. Just stood in the center of the room in various states of undress.

“So,” Draco broached the silence, clearing his throat. “How do we want to… do this?”

As Hermione felt their gazes on her naked body, she shivered in anticipation of what the night would hold. There was one thing she was curious about, though, and so she steeled her eyes the same way she’d watched Harry do as he gave her instructions tonight. She took a step backward, out from between them. “You two,” she gestured between them, “kiss.”

They each stepped forward at the same time. Harry fully clothed. Draco with his trousers and briefs around his thighs. Reaching forward, Harry’s fingers skimmed Draco’s jaw, eyes fiery as the planes of his throat constricted. And then their mouths collided, groans leaving both of them as they established dominance over the kiss. Harry won out, wrapping his large hand over the back of Draco’s head and forcing his head to tilt in deference.

It was the hottest damn thing she’d ever seen. Draco nipped at Harry’s lip, and Harry reached down for Draco’s still-hard cock. The feral noise filling the cottage went straight to Hermione’s core. She took small steps back until legs hit the sofa, and she perched herself on its edge with spread knees.

As Harry jerked Draco between them, Hermione hissed an elongated, “yes”. Her fingers snaked between her legs. “Take him in your mouth, Harry,” she demanded, pressing harder against her bundle of nerves. “Tell me how he tastes.”

He obeyed, immediately dropping to his knees in front of Draco. Two sets of eyes pinned her to the spot as she rubbed herself off and wiggled on the scratchy sofa cushion.

“You heard the witch, Scarhead.” Draco wound his fingers in Harry’s flyaway raven-colored hair and tilted his hips so his erection bobbed just shy of his lips. “Open that pretty mouth of yours and show her how good you’ve gotten at taking me down your throat.” Draco addressed Hermione as Harry’s lips parted. “Keep your fingers on your cunt and don’t remove them until I tell you to. I’m not done with you yet, Granger.”

All the control she thought she had over the situation flitted away with that one command. Hermione massaged her clit as Draco slid a solitary inch of his length into Harry’s waiting mouth. A needy noise ripped itself from her throat and Draco tossed her a look that pointedly reminded her of his demand.

“Keep your eyes on Potter.”

She did; couldn’t tear her gaze away as he took inch after inch of Draco’s stiff length. Couldn’t even fit the whole thing in his mouth. Harry reached up and wrapped his hand around the base, stroking as Draco’s hips snapped forward. Harry groaned, eyes falling closed as Draco took and took.

Hermione wondered vaguely how often they found themselves in this very position. Harry on his knees while Draco fucked his mouth. The speed of her fingers quickened, earning a long, uninhibited whimper from between her lips.

“Swallow around me,” Draco held Harry’s head still. “Watch him, Granger.”

An orgasm overtook her immediately at the sight of it. Of Harry’s lips dripping saliva over Draco’s cock. Of the way he rubbed at the stiff erection in his trousers, trying to find release.

Hermione cried out and nearly pulled her hand away from her sensitive flesh, but Draco halted her with a blazing look in her direction. “Keep stroking that pretty pussy. See how he loves it? The way he can’t stop himself swallowing me down. I haven’t even come yet and he’s trying to suck me dry.”

Her legs clamped closed over her hand, but she didn’t stop moving her fingers. Something primal was awakened inside of her, pushing her to carry on and to please them. She couldn’t stop the noises that kept coming, as her walls fluttered. Unsatisfied from not having something to cling to through her orgasm.

“Oh, god, please,” Hermione begged, feeling another wave of orgasm wave through her ultra-sensitive body. “I need—I need—”

“Tell us what you need,” Draco said just as he snapped his hips forward and silenced a noise from Harry’s throat. The only dent in his apparent self control was the breathless quality of his gruff voice. “All you have to do is ask.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose and met his eyes. “Fuck me, Draco.”

Just like that, he withdrew himself from Harry’s mouth and bounded to her in two quick strides. “Stand and let me get under that delectable body of yours.”

She did, relieved as she removed her fingers from her clenching core. Draco settled on the sofa with his back against its arm, and motioned Harry to join them. “Sit on my cock, Granger. Potter, take off your pants and let Granger repay the favor.”

Delirious with need for them, Hermione did as she was instructed and bracketed Draco’s hips between her knees. He was incredibly big, larger than anyone she’d ever slept with before, and so she hovered over him for a long moment.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, reaching her hand out to grasp his erection in her small hand. “Kiss me?”

Unlike their messy and desperate kiss at the ball, Harry held her face gently and moved his mouth over hers in a slow, steady rhythm. As they kissed, Hermione reached between her thighs and wrapped as much of her hand as she could around Draco’s length. He hissed at the touch, and it sent a powerful shiver through her to know she affected him in such a way. Sliding his erection through her damp folds, Hermione curled her tongue around Harry’s and lined Draco at her entrance.

She held her breath as she took an inch of him at a time until she was fully seated. His hands gripped her hips to hold her still for a moment and she was grateful for the chance to adjust to his length as it nudged her cervix. Feeling so full of him, she could hardly believe the ease at which she’d stretched to accommodate him. She pulled back from her kiss with Harry, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Alright, Granger?” Draco asked, thumbs digging so hard she’d have bruises in the morning. “Want to try moving?”

No, she wanted to stay precisely where she was as her body relaxed around him. But, she knew she’d have to move eventually and so she lifted herself slowly up his shaft. Draco’s hands left her hips and traveled to her breasts as he leaned forward to lick a warm stripe up the valley between them.

The thrill his attention sent skittering along her spine encouraged her to keep going. Lowering herself, Hermione breathed in deep as he stretched her wide again. Once, twice, three more times and she’d developed a steady rhythm that earned her a carnal hiss through Draco’s lips as he suckled on her breast.

“That’s perfect,” he praised her, “Gods, you’re brilliant. Yes, just like that. Fuck—you’re so tight.”

“I’m going bloody mad here.” Harry smoothed Hermione’s hair away from her eyes and, though his tone was laced with humor, she heard the strain behind it. “Touch me, Hermione.”

Granting his desperate request, Hermione wrapped her hand around his erection and stroked him to the cadence she set riding Draco’s cock. She started languidly, enjoying the feel of every ridge and vein rubbing her inner walls as she clenched around him. It was heaven. The pressure. The pace. The way Draco’s hands left their hold on her chest and moved to her hips to move her just the way he liked.

Allowing him to take over, Hermione bounced on top of him to the pace he set. Fast. Hard. Thrusting up into her feverishly and muttering praise. “Touch your tits. Good girl. So perfect. Yes, just like that. Bloody brilliant.” Each word punctuated by an exquisite snap of his hips. “Take him in your mouth, Granger.”

She did. Couldn’t bloody obey his request fast enough. Swallowing Harry down and moaning around his length as he wrapped her wild curls in his fist and held her steady while she moved over Draco. Muscles contracting, squeezing Draco tight as he hissed praise upon praise for her ‘gorgeous body’ and ‘delicious cunt.’

“He feels incredible, doesn’t he?” Harry asked, voice strained as their eyes met from under her long, painted lashes. “Watching you take him—I’m going to come. Can I come here, Hermione?”

Trying to speak around him was too hard, so she sucked harder. The only way she knew how to tell him yes without speaking. He hissed and moved his hips faster, removing the need for her to bob her head. Setting a pace that left saliva leaking from the corners of her mouth, Harry chased his own climax while Draco angled her hips so that he hit her clit on every stroke.

She came to pieces between them, whining around Harry and moaning from a primal place somewhere behind her sternum. Tingles exploded from between her legs and she couldn’t gyrate her hips fast enough, careening herself towards an orgasm that crashed through her like a tsunami set upon shore.

They said things she barely heard. Made noises that scratched a deplorable itch within her. And she loved it. Loved the way they worshipped her, the way they whispered her name like an exaltation.

Harry came first. Her name fell from his lips as she swallowed his release.

Vision whiting out, Hermione tensed as Draco drilled into her. “Going—to—come.” Each word punctuated with a hard thrust. He came with a roar, clutching her hips like a lifeline and burying his face between her breasts.

The tension snapped, and Hermione sagged against Draco with a whimper from the back of her raw throat. His fingers slipped up and down her sweaty spine as he planted kisses to the side of her head. Harry’s gentle fingers ran through her hair. Their tender touches so opposite from the way they’d taken her so roughly moments before.

“Amazing,” Harry whispered, tilting Hermione’s tired face towards him. He ran his fingers down the side of her face, smile radiant as his gaze flicked along her flushed face. “You’re exhausted, aren’t you? Want to sleep over tonight, love?”

With mild panic because she didn’t know what to make of the threesome they’d just had, or who belonged where, or how this would change things going forward, Hermione swiveled her manic eyes to Draco.

His lips lifted and he reached out and held her chin in his fingers. “Whatever you want from me, it’s yours,” he said, answering a question she hadn’t even asked. “As long as you and Potter want me, I’m yours.”

Hopeful, she looked back to Harry, who nodded encouragingly. “We can keep him if you want, but under one condition.”

Hermione’s heart hammered. Sex or not, they were best friends. Still, she couldn’t imagine what he’d ask regarding Draco. What if it was something she couldn’t do? “Name it,” she croaked.

“I don’t want to have you both separately anymore.” Sighing, Harry’s eyes fluttered closed as his fingers dug into Draco’s shoulder. “I want strings.” He opened his eyes and pure hope shined back at her. “I want to belong to you, and you to us.”

_ Us _ .

Before she knew what was happening, she nodded. Lips breaking into a smile.

“Thank Salazar.” Draco cursed under his breath, a noise that broke through the remaining tension in Harry’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to bed where we can properly have our way with you then.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, questioning arch to her brow. “That wasn’t a proper shag?”

The only answer she got in response was sexy, deep laughter from the two men who quickly whisked her off to the bedroom.

Whatever this new dynamic was, they’d figure out tomorrow. For tonight, Hermione knew one thing: she wasn’t going to let them go any time soon.


End file.
